In fact, being able to choose to have an abortion—to get a D&C procedure instead of waiting for the miscarriage to happen naturally—was actually what enabled me to know what caused my miscarriage. Having a D&C makes it easier for doctors to collect enough fetal tissue that they can run a genetic analysis on it. Last week, I got back the results of the chromosomal analysis performed on my fetus. Turns out, he had a mutation, Trisomy 16, that was completely incompatible with life. That trisomy is the most common genetic cause of miscarriage. It’s also completely random. Basically, my miscarriage was bad luck. Knowing that makes me feel so much better. It’s almost hard to describe the relief. And I owe that to an abortion.

Oh, and more good news – if y’all missed it, Surly Amy asked that prominent leaders start condemning the harassment and misogyny going on, and David Silverman of American Atheists was first to step up.

Sufficient sangria has been consumed to sooth the therapied, and sick thread nerves. Awwwh.

One bright and chirpy thing did happen today. Most of youse will appreciate a book score.

***knitter warning***

At the 2nd hand store I got pristine copies of Charts For Color Knittingby Alice Starmore 1st edition and The Complete Encyclopedia of Needlework by Therese de Dillmont. Both are perfect and even have undamaged dust jackets.
You know what’s coming…the junk store was having a sale, I got them for 99 cents each! SQUEE!!!

There wasn’t even a thought about saddling Rubin with Esme’s ratlets. She has 13 to take care of and while they are getting more and more active, they are downright sedate compared to the popcorns. Compared to Esme, Rubin is…casual when it comes to parenting. Also, she doesn’t know about Esme being dead yet. She won’t take it well at all. If the two sets of ratlets had been closer together in age, yes, I would have put the burden on Rubin, but Esme’s ratlets are doing well. They are drinking copious amounts of the formula and munching on everything they can get their teeth on, so I’m not too worried.

Oh, Caine, I didn’t mean to imply YOU should’ve fostered them, for all the reasons you list (only one mom, with a big litter, of the wrong age, who’s a first-timer). The story just came to mind. Besides, I was running a multispecies breeding colony; I had plenty of potential foster rat moms to spread the burden.

Esme’s ratlets look to be doing just fine. (If you put a secure roof over the playpen, they’ll truck right across it upside-down.) ;>

(If you put a secure roof over the playpen, they’ll truck right across it upside-down.)

I know! They are something to watch, swinging sideways on the bars going around the playpen. You’d think they were monkeys, not rats. They’ve had a lot of climbing practice in the condo, what with the ladders and the screen doors. They climb constantly.

Today, they were learning that it was only okay to exit the playpen by climbing on our shoulders. :D We’re already teaching them to shoulder ride and they are good at it, too.

Mister has been having complete fun by tucking a ratlet in the pocket on his T-shirt. He gets such a look on his face – he just beams.

Hey y’all,
I have too much time on my hands and too little to do. And I need to take my mind off things.

Can anyone recommend any feminist-friendly TV series?

I’m in the middle of watching Buffy / Angel for the first time. But after the first Mystical Pregnancy™ in Angel and a lot of of other crap in both series I’m really losing interest.
Actually I’m pretty sure I don’t wanna watch anything else by Joss Whedon right now.

Caine, ever have one try and steal your tongue and make off with it? Not sure which of us was more startled…

Not yet! Hee. Chas used to run to the water dish when the monster dogs were drinking though. He’d sit on the edge and go for tongues. The first time he did it, he scared Doll half to death – she’s getting a drink and Chas races up, gets on the dish, reaches out with both hands, and grabs her tongue and starts drinking water dripping off of it.

My “tea towels” are all actually used for drying hands and dishes — I am reluctant to invest any more time than hemming and a simple applique on something that at some point I will surely do something absentminded and fey to like smear my dough-covered hands all over, or use to wipe the counter.

kristinc
Cool stuff, I especially like the fabric of the skirt.
Yeah, what use would teatowels be if they were just for looking pretty?

Caine
Adoratable. I remember reading Delusions of Gender that male rats are really hads, eh paws off fathers unless they suddenly find themselves in charge of ratlets when they’ll do everything mummy does except for laktating. So, Havelock can surely do his share.

Ms. Daisy
Yes, Dr. Amy can sound a lot like an asshole. On the other hand she’s really compassionate and caring. She doesn’t deny that doctors can be utter assholes , but there is also lots of information on her site, for example that the routine epistiotomies weren’t done because bitches ain’t shit it’ll make my work easier but in an (futile) attempt to reduce female incontinence.
I learned much at her site and given my own experiences with the breastfeeding movement (fortunately I only ever got in contact with them via paper material and the people working with me directly were sensible folks) and how their faux empowerment and female wisdom and naturallistic fallacy stuff reduced me to a pile of tears for not being a worthy mum, I can really understand how professionals who see many such stories become ppretty hostile.
Seriously, if you know a tad about the actual science and why some interventions are done, and then read through the “Happy Homebirth Stories” and see their pictures attached of limp and blue babies, it makes you shake your head. And you see and know that those women escaped disaster by a narrow margin and read how they’re positively bragging about 48hours of active labour and 8 hours of pushing, it makes me sick.

chigau – I don’t tat anymore either. Aging eyes is my excuse now, but honestly, I have a bitter, simmering bag of boiling bile for every relative, co-worker and friend that I tatted a pair of baby slippers for, not ONE, not ever, sent me a thank you card or a picture of baby wearing the slippers. Mind you I saw the babies wearing them at christening after christening, and heard the cooing after the ceremony – but no acknowledgement of my time spent for them. Phooey on that.

Knitting is better, except I can’t give up my love of lace, and I knit Estonian shawls. le sigh

klatu:
I love Joss Whedon’s work. The man is a fantastic writer. I don’t know how far you’ve gotten on Buffy, but check out Season 6 one day. It’s a darker season, but many of the themes it deals with are carefully crafted.

Oh…
I read the rest of the thread, got teary eyed at the personal stories, angered at the new post by European immigrant and hoped we were done with trolls there.
I pop out to the store and there is another revolting specimen on the thread when I get back.
*sigh*

And what’s this meme about polite (read : not using swear words) Europeans? I know the Balkan part is considered barely civilized, but I doubt we’re the only Europeans with an extensive curse word vocabulary.

And what’s this meme about polite (read : not using swear words) Europeans? I know the Balkan part is considered barely civilized, but I doubt we’re the only Europeans with an extensive curse word vocabulary.

Gottverdammter Scheißdreck.
Probably pure classism. You know, educated middle-class people can be horrible assholes by using all polite language. Yeah, form over content.

++++
Fuck, I hate it when my sister steals my money. I really can’t confront her about it because I really, really can’t bear to have a fallout with her at this point in time. I wouldn’t mind it so much if she were just poor, but I fucking mind that she’s poor because she still supports her lazy asshole probably ex-husband to be who is a “musician” too good for working like normal people do.

+++
Funny thing: Today, all the fruit and veg I bought ‘cept for the potatoes were of the same larger family (don’t nail me on the details, I’m not a botanist): Hokaido squash, watermelon, Charentais melon and cucumber.

+++Patricia
I know what you mean. I don’t ask for written thanks, but at least a verbal acknowledgement is more than welcome. Also, if you like it, it makes it more likely that you’ll get something else in the future.

I am also awake. Even with the three medications I take a day to help me deal with anxiety, chronic insomnia and depression, I can’t seem to quite unwind.

Damn fucking shattered calm. I fucking lost my necessary illusions again, and I need those to blend in a little better.

If I could afford booze, I’d be falling down drunk right now. It’s not just my stories, you know? It’s the stories of my friends. It’s my dead friends. It’s the nagging fear that the reason I can’t find employment that pays me well enough to earn a living is because I say too much, because I insisted on reporting the abuse that fucking professor heaped on me and others, as she tried to force me out of grad school.

And I do. I say too much. I notice too much. I get angry and tell people what I’m thinking, exactly what I’m thinking, and I’m looking at the fact that I’ve had to borrow money to pay the rent and wondering if I was more pleasant, less ‘damaged’ and mouthy and so obviously judgmental, if I would have been given more letters of recommendation, if my department would have made more of an effort to fund me, instead of giving me a single class and forcing me to work two or more jobs as I take 12-14 credit hours.

And that thread…. and knowing what the justice system does to people who file complaints, and knowing that there are pictures, for fuck’s sake, which were sent out in her community and that the response is to chide her, CHIDE HER for revealing their names when they were busy violating her privacy and her body….

And the women I know who didn’t bother to file. And holding someone’s hand during a rape exam. And listening to women I know break down and ask me over and over if it counts, if it’s okay that they feel depressed and angry and don’t want anyone to touch them, because they need someone’s permission to feel anything, and having to testify against that professor in front of a jury, trying not to cry or vomit and listening to the college’s lawyer successfully argue that because everyone was over 18, nothing the professor did matters, and finding out that the jury agrees that no matter how much paperwork which has been presented, no matter how large the paper trail and the fact that the school’s witnesses perjured themselves on the stand and it was pointed out to the jury, and watching a man who calls women cunts in class and who has been thrown out of several departments for inappropriate behavior and sexual harassment (but was made the chair of my previous department) lie on that stand that he really cares about women’s issues, because women are really important to him and of course he has tenure….

You know what? I want that island. I want to be somewhere quiet and kind and safe and I want I want I want to be without these fucking memories, unpredictably jumping out of the closet at me. Sometimes I’m fine with really problematic things.

I’m sorry. I’m just feeling so incredibly lonely after that thread. I’m already calming down, and at this point I’m grateful to have somewhere to talk.

Oh, and more good news – if y’all missed it, Surly Amy asked that prominent leaders start condemning the harassment and misogyny going on, and David Silverman of American Atheists was first to step up.

:-)

***knitter warning***

I lol’d!

i merely grinned :-p

Gottverdammter Scheißdreck.
Probably pure classism. You know, educated middle-class people can be horrible assholes by using all polite language. Yeah, form over content.

seconded.

I’m sorry. I’m just feeling so incredibly lonely after that thread.

I understand(-ish). And because I understand, I know why “you’re just whining, you’re not doing anything” is such bullshit. Being able to “whine” together is necessary, or else we’d all get ill from the isolation of feeling like the only person who experienced something/cares about something, and then we wouldn’t b able to do the “actions” these folks insist on.

(closest I’ve ever come to being abused was a short “fling” with a guy who made me seriously doubt my sanity because of how divergent our worldviews were, and how insistend he was that I must be the one who’s wrong. when i realized I actually needed my mommy just to feel not-crazy, I run off as far from this guy as possible. TALKING to people who share/understand your experiences is sooooo necessary)

Oh, you’ll get no argument from me that my socialization was health-detrimental and for survival purposes. I’ve patched good sections of it, but there’s always another little hole for bad shit to slither through. I’m usually good at rationalizing, but I’ve been pretty worried about money recently.

I just read a wonderful quote from a journalist about “tone” that I think applies to many people here as if written about them:

In almost every story I’ve ever written about an arcane controversy, there is a person who has made fighting one side of it their life’s work. These people are, almost without exception, obsessed, irascible, and self-righteous. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.

+++++
Draging this over from the Shame thread:

That’s a word that isn’t actually in use anymore. Backpfeife is rather archaic German, the corresponding word nowadays would be Ohrfeige. Yet there is no such expression as Ohrfeigengesicht. The only thing I can think of would be “Xe has a face like a Birkenstock. You step in it, and you feel fine.” But even that expression is a bit dated.

I can supply “Gesicht wie ein Konversationslexikon (oder Duden): aufschlage, reinschlagen, zuschlagen, immer wieder nachschlagen”
It’s a play on the many meanings of German “schlagen” (hit)
aufschlagen: to open a book, to hit the ground
reinschlagen: to hit somebody/something in a certain place (for example the face), briefly visit somebody
zuschlagen: to close a book, to hit
nachschlagen: to look up something, to hit again, usually while the other one is already down

Carlie (last page):
Just to clarify, yeah I’ve got two sisters who live in the area– my asshole sister and my younger sister. My younger sister and I have an awesome relationship, but I’ve recently learned that she has a rocky relationship with asshole sister as well. So, she understands my frustration, but she’s in no position to run interference for me.

And just as I’ve feared, this whole situation has turned into my parents pitying my asshole sister* and telling me that I should feel bad for her, not be angry at her. Even though the last thing she said to me is that I’m going to kill DarkFetus (!) because of my sleeping position. *sigh*

*She is stressed about her pregnancy, but I fail to see how I should just accept being used as her punching bag simply ‘cos she can’t get her shit together.

Doctor Who. Although I guess it is a somewhat cliched answer around here.

I’d argue that, although fun, Doctor Who is not very near being feminist at all. Often the opposite. I was about to suggest Avatar/Korra and Parks and Rec until I saw them at the bottom of your list. So, I’ve kind of got nothin’.

I just went over and read what everyone was talking about – so sorry, Josh. Lots of hugs. And thank you.

Oh, Alethea. I hope you have lots of on the ground support where you are. Fuck cancer, indeed.

Audley – argh and double argh for your parents. It sounds like almost the only thing you can do is make your pregnancy totally off-limits for her to talk about, and that’s shitty because you deserve to be able to talk about it as much as you want.

Carlie,
That’s my plan– if she asks me about my pregnancy, I’m just going to give vague answers and deal with whatever shallow criticism she can dig up. If she wants to go back to making snide comments about my size or whatever, that’s fine. I can handle it.

(I cried for hours on Sunday after she told me that I was going to kill DF and quite frankly, I don’t need that.)

Double hug, my friend. The courage you display is frankly inspirational to me, and I bet it doesn’t feel like that to you at all. Virtual beer?

3) Nerd, #Too many to count over the last few threads,

I have been touched and heartened by you and The Redhead’s struggles against (medical) adversity. Virtual beer/grog for you too?

Look people, I male, British-ish and have played far too much rugby. Beer and knob jokes are all I know how to do in the face of any kind of trauma, emotional or physical.

“Break an arm? Better hope it’s not your wanking arm, have a pint.”

It’s a problem, I’m trying to get over it, just know it all comes from a good place. Seriously it’s like a disease. Where’s my grant? I WANT A CHARITY FUN RUN!

4) Patricia, #427 last page,

I will have you know that at the time of posting parts of me are extremely sober. (And I was not really insulted by the Comic Sans, that’s pretty hard to achieve. One extra turn on Teh Cowch? Pl0x?)

It’s been minutes…actually hours…actually over 24 hours…(I didn’t have any white wine last night after all)…since my last drink. Also, I am now on day 2 of the 2873648726525656th iteration of the much aborted and restarted health kick. That’s about as far as I have got for months! If I make it past tonight, make it through the weekend, I’ll have enough momentum for anything.

5) Tethys, On, you know, that thread (and actually all people who have shared their horrendous experiences, but today I am singling out Tethys because her post made me fucking cry…not that others haven’t…oh balls…I’m really no good at this…this is to Tethys and by extension everyone who has [and hasn’t] shared their experiences)

I’ve read about the…erm…”phenomenon”…you describe. I’ve read about it, tangentially perhaps, from other victims as well, but your post just grabbed me and shook me. Seriously, like I said to Oggie, and I realise this is potentially patronising as all hell, but the sheer courage and will you display in simply putting fingers to keyboard humbles me. I realise you probably feel like anything other than brave or courageous or anything similar, but thank you for simply having the guts to stand up and be counted in the face of triggering, reality denying arseholes, for whom this is some internet game of who has the bigger dick. You all fucking rock!

6) Carlie, #449, last page,

Awesome kid-bragging. Awesome kid. Awesome parenting.

Erm…any tips?

7) Caine, #all over the place re: ratlets,

Compassion, rats, wonderfulness. Is there nothing you cannot do?

Glad to read the critters are critically cute and thriving.

8) Ing, #454, last page,

Get well soon! Have relaxing things and wonderful medications where applicable.

9) ImaginesABeach, #458 last page,

I am sending you cooling thoughts through the USB port…for all the good they’ll do. Erm…cooling dick joke instead? Does that even make sense? Beer! Have beer!

f) Repeat offences can be dealt with by repeating the above and then taking Horror Sister firmly by the ear and escorting her at a frog-march to the toilet and giving her a good old fashioned British Boarding School Bogwashing (head in toilet, regardless of contents, flush repeatedly).

g) If none of this works, go on the run and change your name. In fact even if this does work that might be an idea. People tend to get a bit moody after bogwashings.

and Audley… wtf, they have to take sides with the vicious selfish whiner instead of telling HER to give a shit about YOU. *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk*

—

mouthyb: *nod* the system’s rigged in favor of the status quo and the ‘acceptable’. For what it’s worth, you’re one of the folks I most admire here; and when I fantasize about building Horde Island (in Minecraft, partly…) I want to build a big library for you.

I’ll give full details later, but last night I remembered what that bastard did, including the camera, and, oddly, I feel like a really big weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Even though I know that the photos he took of me, when I was nine or ten, are still probably out there, I know just what scum he is, the fact that I remember what the hell happened has really taken a lot of the stress out of it.

Even though the last thing she said to me is that I’m going to kill DarkFetus (!) because of my sleeping position. *sigh*

Is abuse, pure and simple.

Stress is not good for you or Darkfetus (as no doubt you know). As Matt mentions, your sister is wrong, so (and I don’t doubt you are cool as a cucumber) chill, Winston! The tiny shreds of what I know about you from here make me think you are going to be an ace mother, and are managing your pregnancy as perfectly as anyone can.

Oh I sympathise (as far as possible) so much. My wife’s mum was such an amazing pain in the arse during my wife’s pregnancy. I’m not even going into (probably triggering) detail.

I spent two hours talking to the guy who I briefly dated. He wanted clarification. I basically summed it up with that I’m unwilling to be in a serious relationship with someone I know has a hard limit to his attraction for me – I will not put emotional investment into someone that has told me basically when I start becoming visibly feminine, he’ll not be interested in me anymore.

I did tell him that friends is fine. I enjoyed hanging out with him, and although he said he was unfamiliar with transgenderism, he wasn’t going to stop being my friend because of it.

This was at about 5 PM, I’m in Vegas, so it’s actually 8 PM to my normal time, and I woke up at about 4.30 AM. My phone hung up on him, I tried to call back, but it didn’t go through, so I decided “I’ll just wait a few minutes curled up in bed on the -zzzzzzzzzz” fell right asleep.

So at 2 AM, I suddenly hear my hotel room phone ringing. Some very British lady was trying to call a phone number in the States. I should’ve told her to dial 9 to get out cause about five minutes after I hung up, it rings again. Then ten minutes later it rings again. Then ten minutes later it rings again. All three times only a single ring so I couldn’t pick it up.

Then a woman I know from the shuttle bus going to the Metro called me after all those. Someone called her, and she misdialed my number.

Well, the stupid trolls in the “culture shelters” thread got to me worse than I thought. I ended up having a full blown flashback last night with my partner. Today’s going to be one of those days of tears and “maybe I should just be a hermit in the woods and never so much as look at another human being”, I can tell.

If I’m able to get my head together to some degree, I’m going to try writing. Bronze Age Ireland and burial mounds is somehow soothing compared to reality.

birgerjohansson:

ARPANET revisited: “Obama Was Right: The Government Invented the Internet”

I’m blown away that this is still being denied. A basic fact of history.

You can tell her that the evil communistic NHS advice is that women should sleep in whatever position(s) they find comfortable.

How on earth are you supposed to control that anyway? Sure, you can control how you fall asleep, but after that you are, you know, asleep.
If anybody has found a solution short of tying people to their beds, please share with the millions of people suffering from snoring partners.

+++
Good news: I got my car back
Bad news: before I got it back it stood in the sun (about 30°C here) all afternoon, so I’m roasted in my own juice right now.

Fuck cancer? Forget fucking, KILL cancer! With extreme prejudice! I look to the day when people diagnosed with cancer say, “Aw, crap! Now I’ll have to spend all weekend in treatment instead of going to the beach!” or maybe “I suppose then I’ll be taking this damn anticancer drug for the rest of my life (along with my antihypertensive, anticholesterol, and antidiabetic med).” We’re nowhere near there yet, but it could happen…if the NIH ever gets funded again. Or if Europe’s proposed international NIH equivalent gets off the ground. Or the BRIC countries come to save us. But it won’t happen if the rich people of the world keep trying to hang on to all the money and not letting it loose to do something useful.

Um, apologize for politicizing the condolences. I hate this fucking disease (set of diseases) and the fact that there are so many people with wealth and power who seem to be saying “not my problem” to it and other serious threats to public health.

Oh, talking about communist socialized healthcare, today I found out why I haven’t seen one of the housekeepers at #1’s kindergarten in quite a while: she’s pregnant and due in some weeks.
Those evil people will pay your salary and make you stay at home if your job might put you in danger of having a miscarriage or stillbirth, so, working with children who should be classified as means of biological warfare is verboten. Take that, pro-lifers.

Anyone else feel like we ought to move Audley to the Pharyngula island for the duration of her pregnancy so she can be separated from Horrorsister and her unpleasant job? Hmm…but how’s the access to OB care on the Pharyngula island? Maybe we should make Manhattan the Pharyngula island after we take over the world. Plenty of nice hospitals with well equipped birthing suites there.

For the past few weeks I had been struggling with panic attacks and almost-flashbacks that would create the fear without me letting myself know what it was that was frightening me.

Up in Maine, among the older folks who worked in the logging industry, there were men who worked the rivers. Their job was to use poles to keep the logs moving down the spring flood. Occasionally, a logjam would develop. Some of these jams were a mile long and, until released, kept getting bigger as more logs joined the upstream end. They called in a specialist, someone with the experience and the brains to look for the key log (sometimes there was more than one and they had to be freed in the right order), the one or more log that, when freed, would allow the remainder of the logs to flow free. I suspect (though with absolutely nothing to back it up) that there are key logs within suppressed or repressed memory — a single bit of data that can set everything else loose. For me, that key log appears to have been analyzing and responding to rape aplogists, misogynists, sexists, and clueless gits of massive proportions.

Last night, thanks to one of the comments about the photography (not one of the defenders of the rapists, but someone who had a really good point) I remembered all (at least, I hope to hell that it is all) of it. Including the photography. And I vomitted violently. To the point of hemorhaging in the sclera. And, much in the same way that vomitting can help when one has an upset stomach, it helped. And the weird thing is, I feel so much better, more relaxed, less stressed. I know what that asshole did to me and others and there is no forgiveness, but I feel better. A key log for my memory.

A year or two ago, I remembered being a Cub Scout and I vaguely remembered something bad happening. Wasn’t sure what it was, but I always felt ill at ease. The key log was still in place.

Then, while participating in one of the MRA threads (it may have been the 3d5k mega thread), I remembered what the hell it was that was so bad about scouts. Specifically, anal and oral rape of me, and other scouts, by the upstanding member of the community who was in charge (and his wife made things easier for him by leading the scouts on hikes while leaving one behind with the predator). The first key log was out.

Details dribbled out over the past year and, with every detail (places, people, things) I figured that the worst was over. While I told myself this, though, I was aware of significant blanks in what I remembered happening and, with a shitload of stress, strife, and dumping (sorry, all), the events kept coming out.

I remember a family of hikers walking into the camp where I was being raped. The apologized, laughed, and went on their way. I remember knowing that I could never, ever, tell anyone — the man was a Mormon stakeholder, a father of three (four?), a good family man, a pillar of the community. I knew I could never tell anyone because I knew that this (rape) only happened to girls and if I told anyone my secret would be out. And I knew that I could never tell anyone because I would never be believed.

The psychological games he played were sick. He told me (and, I presume, the others) that there are two kinds of people on earth — men and children. Children existed only to give pleasure to men. Some children grew up and became men (but girls would always remain children) and his job was to teach us what men can do so that we could grow up and become men ourselves.

I never talked about this with any of the other scouts (it was a small den — I think there were six of us). I was afraid that I was the only one, that I had been singled out. I was also afraid that I wasn’t the only one.

I buried this shit, rather successfully (only one suicide attempt and one stay in a hospital for depression during that time), for about 35 years. And now it is all there in my active memory. There are no gaps that I can find (and I spent all (and I mean all!) last night probing for gaps). I think the photographs are the last piece of the puzzle. They were the final (I hope) key log. The memories are there.

The experience was horrible. The guilt, created by myself (it was my fault, of course), created by society (it was either my fault or I was a liar), created by socialization (it was my fault again), feels like it was far worse. Physical pain ended for me when the predator was transfered elsewhere. The guilt, the self-blaming, was still there even when I didn’t know what the fuck I felt guilty about.

Now, thanks to a rapid education on feminism, toxic masculinity, misogyny and, most important, rape culture, I don’t feel guilty. Well, there are some residual twinges in there, but I can, mentally, tell those little bits of leftover guilt to go fuck themselves — they are no longer needed. The key logs are gone, floating down to the mill, no longer blocking things up.

Do I think this is the end of the panic attacks, the nightmares, the stress? No. Not in the least. Do I feel like I have a handle on it and can ride through the shit? Yes. Will I still be triggered? Probably. Will I be able to deal with it as an adult rather than me as a child? I hope so.

Thank all of you very much for your support. More, thank you for the education. Before I understood what rape culture was, my self-blaming seemed right, logical, the only possible interpretation. Even when I didn’t remember the rapes, I knew something bad had happened in scouts and I was the one to blame.

I think all the key logs are gone. The memories are there, will always be there, and are a part of who I am. But now, I know more of who I am and can deal with the shit in a rational manner.

There is also a page about the claims certain sleeping position can cause still-birth. Link here.

NHS page on advice about sleep and pregnancy here.

Thank you very much! The NHS advice is exactly what my doctor told me– she is concerned with how much sleep I’m getting and wasn’t worried about my position at all.

I don’t know why I haven’t been checking the NHS site for advice, since you’ve been passing on awesome information from there. Even the link to the explanation of the study made it clear that the increased risk for stillbirth is very small and more studies need to be done.

I kind of want to send those links along to asshole sister with a big FUCK YOU at the bottom of the email.

Pteryxx,

wtf, they have to take sides with the vicious selfish whiner instead of telling HER to give a shit about YOU. *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk*

Like I said, I’m not totally surprised. Without going into too much detail, there’s some worry that she’s mentally ill. Since I’m not AND I’ve had an easier time with my pregnancy, I’m expected to be “mature enough” to not let her get me down. (Which is why I’ve been dumping this shit here. Sorry!)

Although using potential mental illness as an excuse for asshole sister’s behavior is pretty shitty in and of itself, now that I think about it.

Louis,

The tiny shreds of what I know about you from here make me think you are going to be an ace mother, and are managing your pregnancy as perfectly as anyone can.

mouthyb: *truckload of hugs* *chocolate* *all the gin and tonic that Jules left here* *cocoa shell tea with rooibos and vanilla* *more hugs*

which means instead of working, I’m linkspamming my own blog

And you did a really impressive job of it. :-o

I understand(-ish). And because I understand, I know why “you’re just whining, you’re not doing anything” is such bullshit. Being able to “whine” together is necessary, or else we’d all get ill from the isolation of feeling like the only person who experienced something/cares about something, and then we wouldn’t b able to do the “actions” these folks insist on.

So sad. So tired. So full of desire to fucking make things right, things that cannot be made right. I read the stories, no strike that, the realities, that others have lived through and I feel small and helpless. I slip back into the too small shell of the little boy whose survival tool was an emotional radar fit to see a weeping fruit fly in the next province over.

I’m sorry everyone, all you who have suffered so much. I would name names but to do so would risk leaving someone out. Someone whose voice I have heard and believed and cherished. All I have is a glib hand on a keyboard and the occasional wry turn of phrase to offer. Tomorrow that may be enough, tonight it seems hollow. Would that I had more.

I truly believe, as Spider Robinson was so fond of pointing out, that shared pain is lessened and shared joy is increased. To which I would add that both the sharer and the receiver are made the stronger for it. I shall take that thought to bed and wrap it in the clouded drapes of my fatigued mind, and perhaps tomorrow I’ll have some joy to share. Because for all the difficulties and darkness that has been brought to light over the last year or so here, there’s been joy too. There’s foetuses, and ratties and nommy food from ommy Oms, tomfoolery, puns and punishments and quequeque jumping in naught but one’s naughty bits. Oh, and troll stomping. Never forget the troll stomping dance, a hobnailed hornpipe fit to shake the intertoobs from its very foundations of ignorance and idiocy to its clerestory windows of radiant skepticism.

Better stop there, my dreams are weird enough as it is. Goodnight or good day, may it always be better than the last.

Pharyngula island is, if you remember rightly, the location of the Queueueueue™. This means that next to the Secks Pittt, the Orgy Bar, The GheySecksWithBrownian Grill, and the 360 Degree Abortion-Plex there are full, excellent and free medical facilities of all kinds.

LouisCorp™ is, after all, a major sponsor and provider of the island’s services and even though we are an Evil Corporation™ (a division of which is the Evil Atheist Conspiracy: Providing Black Helicopter Services and Corrective Disappearances since 1312), we aim to be precisely and carefully equally evil to everyone. For example, we know that Teh Socialismz is Evil. Therefore we provide all services to the island’s populace free at the point of delivery. Just to piss of the RWAs.

I am sending you triple beer, double hugs, a side order of extra knob jokes, and today, on special offer, your own batch of LouisCorp™ Brand Flying Monkeys, good for at least one comedy troll evisceration or fetching of lesbians masturbating with bacon covered chocolate bibles riding goats on fire and juggling porcupines (we have some very talented lesbians on staff).

For example, we know that Teh Socialismz is Evil. Therefore we provide all services to the island’s populace free at the point of delivery. Just to piss of the RWAs.

Reminds me of a comic* where, as a background joke, at one point somebody walks around and turns the street lights on… and grins evilly, saying he turns them on specifically to annoy nasty people who’d prefer darkness.

Or another point in the same comic where a farmer notices passing cars and says he needs to put more liquid manure on his fields to make the city slickers stay away.

John M., having a protagonist as a woman isn’t everything. Whedon doesn’t get cookies for that at this point. It only looks sufficient because the rest of TV Land is stuck decades in the past.

Birger, I’ve seen the movie In the Loop, which is based on The Thick of It. Malcolm Tucker’s creativity in cursing is a thing of beauty. Only thing is, the movie depressed the hell out of me at the end. Cynically amusing, sure, but everybody in the cast is an asshole. The most sympathetic character was an American five-star general, FFS.

Obama Was Right: The Government Invented the Internet

It speaks to how wingnut-brainwashed this country has become that such obvious statements have become refreshing to see.

JAL, bedbugs are hardly the only vile organisms for sale at Giant Microbes. I mean, they’ve got cholera, anthrax, gonorrhea, anything you can think of.

Alethea, I’m so sorry.

Giliell:

The only thing I can think of would be “Xe has a face like a Birkenstock. You step in it, and you feel fine.”

Reading your story made me cry. I can’t properly express my feelings in words. They are wavering between absolute hate for your tormentor and admiration of your bravery.
I’ll just repeat FossilFishy’s sentiment:

Ogvorbis, I hope that from here on in your healing goes as steadily and as smoothly as is possible.

Turns out, he had a mutation, Trisomy 16, that was completely incompatible with life. That trisomy is the most common genetic cause of miscarriage. It’s also completely random. Basically, my miscarriage was bad luck. Knowing that makes me feel so much better. It’s almost hard to describe the relief. And I owe that to an abortion.

I can imagine that relief.

Also, I made an awesome skirt!

*is proud*

*like*

And what’s this meme about polite (read : not using swear words) Europeans?

No she isn’t. I did a lot of research on her and she does things like claim that homebirth killed specific babies without having any evidence about the cause of death. Imagine being the mother of a baby who died, and having a bunch of people come over to your blog to call you a murderer without knowing anything about your life, but they can say a DOCTOR told them so it must be true! She also makes posts like “the feminist breeder managed not to kill her baby” about the uneventful homebirth of a woman who has had two extremely traumatic hospital births because of the shitty behavior of the doctors and staff at the hospital. She knows how unethically TFB was treated in her first two births too, and instead of being angry that the system treated TFB so horribly both times she gave birth in the hospital, Dr amy gets mad at TFB for being unwilling to go back for more abuse. She let a harassment campaign go on in her blog comments against a woman who was giving birth at home (her commenters posted the womans name and address, and people did shit like call the police on her during her labor).

Dr Amy also goes on My OB said WHAT to harass women who have been fed lines of shit by their OB (or outright insulted), she tells them how dumb they all are for having a problem with being treated like shit in the medical system. You should go there and see what women put up with from OBs, stuff that dr amy thinks is defensible. When confronted about why she is so horrible towards people she whined about not having her authority respected. She does all this crap while claiming that she is *so concerned* about the babies, as fucking if. If she cared at all she would be trying to improve the hospital system to avoid abuses and allow more women to feel safe birthing there, but she doesn’t, she just wants women to put up with anything the hospital throws at them (or she will call them a bad mother).

Did you see how she left science based medicine, and how the majority of the people there felt that she did a totally shit job of evidencing her points? How about her bullshit pro-circumsicion articles? Why the fuck does she blog about parenting (condemning the parenting style of others mostly) if she is so compassionate and only cares about the welfare of babies? The truth is that she likes to shit on other women for making different choices than she would, and she apparently hates patients who talk back.

After spending years working in hospitals I cannot understand why people would be judgmental of those who wish to avoid going there. Abusive behavior is routine in every single part of it and some people are fucked up permanently by what happened to them. Being female and pregnant ups your risk of being abused (and so does being part of any other marginalized group). Most do not realistically have any recourse. Google “birth rape” sometime- it is routine. So is having uneccessary surgery, a non-trivial risk for women. The compassion some people have here for those who have been traumatized sexually seems to end when it comes to giving birth it seems- its also a compelling reason to avoid medical model care. Its especially rich for people to shit on home birthers when the majority I have spoken to (and read online) have actually been abused by the medical system before deciding to birth outside the hospital. Folks who want to judge need to go see what women are put through, really imagine the personal significance of a birth like that. The message that they should be compelled to birth in an environment that abused them previously says that the mental well being of a woman is unimportant- as if caring for a newborn isn’t emotionally taxing to begin with. Are women supposed to put up with anything if someone simply tells them that it will be safer that way? Why are OBs so set on using ridiculous scare tactics if the risks are really compelling? The truth is that every approach has specific risks involved with it, and the risks involved with any given approach are low (for uncomplicated pregnancies, which are the majority). No one discusses iatrogenic infection or medical errors as risks for hospital births, but they most certainly are. The difference is that if your baby dies because you gave birth in a hospital there aren’t parades of assholes willing to call you a murderer for doing what you thought was best.

It was reference to a troll on the It’s odd how culture shelters some who should be shamed thread who was blabbering about polite Europeans (in contrast to those nasty American pigs, I guess). I might be wrong, but I think he wasn’t the first one to bring that up.

@118: Tuteur’s personality aside, the bulk of the available evidence suggests that giving birth at home presents a risk to the baby. Taking that risk is the right of the pregnant woman, just as taking any risk medically is the right of the patient. But telling other women it’s perfectly safe is not any more right than telling women that all OBs are perfect and if you feel disrespected (or worse) by one it’s your fault.

Tuteur, as I said, can be an asshole. I’m not an apologist for medical-establishment fuckery, having suffered from it myself. That said, natchurrralll-birfer idiocy is dangerous, and the idea that a doctor not verbally asking the new mother’s permission every time they touch her genitalia during labor and pregnancy is “rape” … no. Just no. Get some goddamn perspective.

*giant pile of hugs* for all those who are having a tough time. Especially Ogvorbis and Alethea.

***

Last night I dreamed that I was babysitting Caine’s ratlets. I spent most of the dream chasing them and trying to keep them from escaping into the heating ducts. Now that is my mental image of what Caine’s life is like right now.

Mano Singham, whose blog I like very much, has plopped down a pile of smug and stupid. LGBT people who are going to stage a kiss-in in Chik-Fil-A restaurants soon (the company’s owner contributes to anti-gay causes, yet “so far as” Mano knows the company doesn’t practice discrimination against gay employees–snort).

Um, Tuteur is right on some things. She’s zealous and overreaching on others. Home childbirth, given the right circumstances, is not nearly the medical emergency she makes it out to be. Nor is it a happy meadow of sunshine and unicorn farts just because it’s “natural.”

There are reasonable women all around who choose homebirth not out of a wooish fantasy and they’re not setting themselves up for DefCon 4.

I am sending you triple beer, double hugs, a side order of extra knob jokes, and today, on special offer, your own batch of LouisCorp™ Brand Flying Monkeys, good for at least one comedy troll evisceration or fetching of lesbians masturbating with bacon covered chocolate bibles riding goats on fire and juggling porcupines (we have some very talented lesbians on staff).

Er, thanks.

Your mind is an intersting place.

Ogvorbis, I hope that from here on in your healing goes as steadily and as smoothly as is possible.

I hope so too. This is the first time I have remembered something and not felt that there was more.

My heart goes out to Ogvorbis and to everybody struggling from having been triggered in that thread.

May have actually been a good (though horrible (I really wonder if any of those photos are still wandering around out there, if any were digitized)) trigger.

They are wavering between absolute hate for your tormentor and admiration of your bravery.

No bravery involved. Just, y’know, life.

I don’t know what to say that could be helpful but am hoping sending some general support your way will be useful.

Support helps. Thanks.

I didn’t cry. I… froze, except that my jaw was slowly dropping.

Sorry. I really wasn’t trying to shock anyone. I just needed to write that down in a public place.

*giant pile of hugs* for all those who are having a tough time. Especially Ogvorbis and Alethea

Anyone else feel like we ought to move Audley to the Pharyngula island for the duration of her pregnancy so she can be separated from Horrorsister and her unpleasant job?

:D

I should clarify about my job– since I’m on medical restriction, I’m stuck in the office for 40 hours a week, which is incredibly fucking boring. So boring that since I haven’t been sleeping lately (thanks, asshole sister!), I took today off rather than fall asleep at my desk.

Knowing that the Pharyngula Island Paradise™ will be (heh) serviced by LouisCorp™, I can expect scantily-clad people to bring me coconut based drinks, yes?

Caine:

Audley, stop that crying, you aren’t going to hurt Darkfetus and you know it!

Yes, ma’am!

David:

With or without FUCK YOU, send them to her, or she’ll keep giving her “advice” to you and everyone else who becomes pregnant too close to her.

Good call. She probably won’t respond to the email, but she should at least have access to reliable information for herself.

Josh, not all homebirthing is dangerous, but “freebirthing,” a/k/a unassisted childbirth? VERY dangerous. Pregnancy is inherently risky, and things suddenly go wrong with no warning. Good midwives overseeing homebirths have backup plans.

Hmmm… you can tell that I have a lot to do, all of it at once, and one part of it till a (very soft) deadline that is today.

«Even at age twelve I could tell that Jimmy Carter was an honest man trying to address complicated issues and Ronald Reagan was a brilcreemed salesman telling people what they wanted to hear. I secretly wept on the stairs the night he was elected President, because I understood that the kind of shitheads I had to listen to in the cafeteria grew up to become voters, and won. I spent the eight years he was in office living in one of those science-fiction movies where everyone is taken over by aliens—I was appalled by how stupid and mean-spirited and repulsive the world was becoming while everyone else in America seemed to agree that things were finally exactly as they should be.»

My dad has a book from that time. It’s titled “What Reagan Is Doing To Us”. What little I’ve read of it sounds exactly like 20 years later. Almost uncanny.

Well, the US of A certainly was / still is our “Bigger Brother” (I live in Germany), yet politicians are rather dull, spineless, opportunistic Gestalten.

I see your Germany and raise you an Austria! Practically all current Austrian politicians are incredibly dull; some, including the Federal Chancellor, actually have negative charisma (“charisn’tma”*).

* Compare Polish: charyzniema, “charis-not-has”/”charis-there-isn’t”.

But, but, but… lesbians!!!!one1elebenty! Every mans dream.

(Or so Men’s Health tells us. I know that because my e-mail provider occasionally features articles from it.)

well… how much of the inside of a fly is actually edible material? Some of it’s air passages, some’s connective tissue…

Connective tissue is protein. Digesting it just takes time.

There’s a spider expert in a local biology department. I wonder if he’s amenable to random phone calls? …

How about e-mail?

also, spiders’ esophagi go THROUGH their brains.

Wow. I didn’t know that. Doesn’t sound intelligently designed to me.

And just so you know, all ecdysozoans*, indeed pretty much all protostomes, share this design. The brain is the first set of vertical and transverse horizontal connections between the longitudinal strands of the central nervous system – a ring.

* Arthropods, penis worms, nematodes…

я хачу спать

хочу – not that it changes much about the pronunciation

Ronald Reagan was not as popular here in Europe.
A Swedish PR company for an American brand of peanuts capitalised on that, setting up huge posters with Ronald Reagan, saying “The really big nuts come from America!”

So, don’t spill it on the floor too hard, lest the floor spill back up to you? :-D

At one point I had a rat mother nursing her own pinkies, a few pinkie mice, a couple of hamsters and a gerbil. She’d carefully arrange her own gigantic pups so the tiny pinkie mice didn’t get squished, and somehow ensured that they all got milk. She even groomed the baby mice extra-carefully with her relatively huge rat tongue.

Josh – no worries. I realize that Tuteur is biased, and that there’s a lot of variation in homebirths, but some of the people in that movement are pushing pure woo, along with extremely regressive ideas about women’s role in both life and in their children’s lives.

I replied at Mano’s but it’s in moderation, possibly because of my recent nym adjustment.

It’s close enough! Christ, I’m not getting anything done. We gave up and let them free range today. At first, we introduced them to the bathroom, had them shut in there. Then I went ahead an opened the door into the studio. They are a freakin’ out and having a blast! Magrat, Gytha, Chester and several others have made it all the way back to their condo and are busily mapping out the studio. :D

I’m trying to clean up in here and then settle down to get some damn work done on The Darkheart Duckie Project.

If you’re not wearing your baby 24/7, you are a bad woman and have failed. Oh, never mind help from your husband–because of course you’re in a heterosexual marriage and of course only straight cis women have children–he’s just there to donate sperm and give you money. Your glory and satisfaction will come entirely from orgasmically pushing a baby out of your vagina. If you fail to do this every two years or so, you are no longer a woman. Your only purpose is your fertility. Now let’s all dance in the Red Tent and glory in Womanhood. *_*

Possibly the worst example of the glorification of female bits passing as feminism I’ve ever seen was a piece in (of course) the Whole Earth Review some 20 years ago. The author was going around during her period without a tampon, pad, or cup, bleeding over everything. Not an exaggeration. She was leaving blood behind in bus seats.

Yes, you are. We decided we’re going to sneak Rubin’s ratlets in on our vet when we take Esme’s crew in. The people at the vet clinic made the appointment out to “Esme’s Babies” – we were all getting teary.

Daisy:

Whole Earth Review

Any relation to The Whole Earth Catalog of the ’70s? Hippies, VW bus named Urge, yada, yada, yada.

The tone trolling and FTB hating over there is impressive for such a short thread (so far). Meanwhile, I’m still in moderation. Here’s what I said:

which I don’t think is a good idea since it seems to me to be needlessly provocativeI am a handwringing tone troll who’s oblivious to my own privilege in this matter.

Fixed.

Free clue, Mano: The “provocative” actions of GLBT people at the Stonewall Inn, then ACT-UP activists a generation later, are probably why gay rights have made a lot of progress in the United States since then.

Caine, yes, same people who were behind the Whole Earth Catalog. Some of the articles in both publications were actually interesting, such as the ones on practical live-off-the-land matters like how to do home canning or how to build a cabin, but the woo… argh. And, being young and insufficiently skeptical, I had too many woo-befuddled cupcakes in my social circle back then.

They’re all so wrong! The first one you linked to even had tyrannosaur teeth in a hadrosaur head (hadrosaurs were herbivores, just so you know)! The second one you linked to this time has some kind of crocodile head followed by the neck and trunk of a stegosaur with shoulders and forelimbs that don’t resemble anything at all! *throws up hands chaotically* WAAAH!

Last night I dreamed that I was babysitting Caine’s ratlets. I spent most of the dream chasing them and trying to keep them from escaping into the heating ducts. Now that is my mental image of what Caine’s life is like right now.

:-}

Home childbirth, given the right circumstances, is not nearly the medical emergency she makes it out to be.

Yeah, given the right circumstances. Some circumstances are difficult to detect in advance, and some can change during the course of a birth.

Not really surprising that such a poorly researched book of “historical” fiction would become a catchphrase in Wombanly Woo circles.

Ugh, yes. Note that the red tent website played music when I clicked on the link, if you want to mute your speakers first.

People love them some poorly researched “history” woo, though. Wicca is thousands of years old and always existed in its present form! Remember the Burning Times, which targeted actual witches! The early Hebrews were all about mother goddesses and Clan of the Cave Bear inspired virginity taking ritual orgies for their daughters! There is totally proof of all of this! The actual complexity of ancient pagan pantheons or Bronze Age societies need not be explored!

Yes, Daisy, the tone-trolling and FtB Thought Police over at Mano’s is impressively fast! We’ve now got another one “more in sorrow than anger” so very, very sad that me, the SpokesGay, such a “hard fighter”, should choose such a soft target as Mano. How beneath me it is.

They don’t get it. I’m going to keep being the most obnoxious, in your face caller-outer of privileged stupidity (along with others)as I can be until the culture recognizes that it’s the privileged stupidity—not me smacking it down—that’s the moral outrage. I don’t give a shit if they hate it. I don’t care if they think it’s ruining skepticism/atheism/their fapping.

Since we’re still kind of talking about pregnancy and whatnot:
DarkFetus can now kick and punch hard enough to make my stomach move. I rather like it (it’s almost lonely feeling when she’s inactive for a period of time).

However, starting yesterday, she’s been giving me really hard wallops while I’m eating*. It’s a little disconcerting to eat a bean burrito while having all that activity happening in my belly.

*I don’t know why this hasn’t happened before– I’d have to guess that because there are certain times during the day that she’s more active than others, they just didn’t line up with my eating schedule.

David, “Fuckabee” is the coinage, or perhaps simply usage, of a friend in Arkansas who detailed to me a number of years ago Huckabee’s close ties with the Duggar family and how fiscally corrupt both of them are.

Caerie, sorry about the autoplay music there. I’m at work and the computer is likely configured not to play such crap.

LOL, “Never Again The Burning Times!” Yes, Wiccans, those were your actual foremothers, who could practice ~~Magick~~ and Draw Down The Moon, burnt at the stake. /eyeroll

Audley:

It’s a little disconcerting to eat a bean burrito while having all that activity happening in my belly.

Yeah, usually your gut starts moving around after you’ve eaten the bean burrito.

Yes, actually; a direct descendant.
It was still called CoEvolution Quarterly when I first subscribed in 1981, and it might have still been edited by Stewart Brand, and it included Catalog updates and additions with all kinds of articles that fascinated a youngish neohippy with a serious reading jones. They changed to Whole Earth Review in (looks it up) 1985.

Calling the kiss-in needlessly provocative. Hm, where have I heard something like that before? Oh yes, I hear that every year around Pride time.
“why do they have to flaunt themselves”, “needlessly provocative”, “I don’t need to parade my sexuality”, etc.

If you suddenly sound like people who say that kind of shit, take a moment and rethink your position.

Harassment is bad, but you kind of deserved it for daring to be a hot girl at a sci-fi convention since you’re probably faking geekiness.

what

As near as I can tell, he thinks that he can spot who is a geek and who is not and a woman who is not a geek and taunting men with her hotness by existing in public is some kind of evil predator and she is the reason why harassment takes place.